In the
years immediately following Martin Luther's emerging fame after posting
the Ninety-Five Theses in 1517, many European observers wondered how the
Renaissance and Reformation movements might relate to one another in the
future. After all, both were interested in a type of reform in the Church.
Furthermore, each movement was led by a brilliant man who had angered the
Church's hierarchy, and who might therefore benefit from an alliance with
another visible figure. Individually, the men might be marginalized, but
together, some speculated, their reform proposals might receive more serious
attention. Desiderius Erasmus (c. 1466-1536) was more than fifteen years
older than Luther (1483-1546), and considerably less interested in theology
proper. Yet, as J. I. Packer has written, "many anticipated that the outspoken
young Saxon and the cool clear-thinking Lowlander would join forces."[1]

Such expectations
seem hardly believable to those living after the Reformation--or, more
specifically, after Luther and Erasmus' heated public exchange about the
human will. For Luther opened his 1525 response to Erasmus' Freedom
of the Will by announcing that using Erasmus' brilliant eloquence to
convey such a weak argument "is like using gold or silver dishes to carry
garden rubbish or dung."[2] And he concluded his critique by offering a
sincere--but nonetheless shocking--prayer that Erasmus might one day be
converted to Christianity.[3] Yet, in spite of the debate's vigor, it was
possible for men in earlier years (c. 1517-1519) to speculate about common
cause. Such hopes were encouraged by the attempts of Philip Melanchthon,
who was both an evangelical and a humanist, to bring the two men closer
together.

Additionally,
the evangelicals had been the beneficiaries of much of the humanists' work.
Most obvious is Erasmus' Greek scholarship which aided Protestant New Testament
exegesis, but Erasmus had also in fact been a political asset to the evangelicals
on a number of occasions: He had urged the Church to be moderate in its
judgment of its critics (Luther particularly), he had argued that Rome
should stop burning the reformers' books, and he allegedly declined an
offer of a bishopric if he would publicly reject Luther's teaching.[4]

Ultimately,
though, as the visible leader of the humanist movement too often identified
with the new Evangelicalism, Erasmus decided that he must comment on Luther's
destabilizing writings. After the death of Pope Leo X and the ascent of
Adrian VI in 1521, Erasmus was on better terms with Rome. For Adrian was
a friend of Erasmus'. Additionally, Luther's increasingly public observations
that Erasmus was able to critique the Church but was not able to offer
anything better (specifically because Erasmus' theology was not Christocentric
enough), surely angered the elder scholar.[5] Finally, though, it seems
to have been Luther's dismissive statements about the human will--which
Erasmus understood to degrade the entire man (and, by implication, God)--which
prompted Erasmus to action.

The result
was the 1524 publication of Erasmus' Diatribe [or Discussion] Concerning
Free Will, despite a prior letter from Luther warning him that he would
be better off not getting in over his head.[6] Erasmus had long made it
clear that he was wary of theological dispute because it tended to be divisive.
He preferred peace within the Church because Christ was, after all, the
agent of peace. Yet, under pressure from both friend and foe to reveal
where he stood regarding Luther's teaching on Christian freedom, Erasmus
concluded that engaging Luther on the will would be beneficial for at least
three reasons: He could publicly distance himself from the heretical Luther,
he could defend the dignity of man from the abuses of Luther's "extreme"
view of Adam's fall, and he could offer a public sermon about the superiority
of piety (which is beneficial to both the pious and their neighbors) over
doctrine (which is often destructive).

Luther's
response, The Bondage of the Will (1525), which he generally considered
his best work, is surprisingly forceful. (At least Erasmus accomplished
his goal of showing his distance from the zealous Luther!) The other two
aims of Erasmus' book (his position on the freedom of the will, and his
prioritization of piety over doctrine) are, Luther insists, intimately
connected. For Erasmus can only place his hope in man's piety because he
believes that man's will is free to attain piety. Protestants, on the other
hand, despair of attaining righteousness by their own actions, so if man
is to have any hope at all, it must be found in theology, not ethics.

But, Erasmus
replies, is that to imply that theology is silent on ethical matters? Did
not Jesus, God Incarnate, say that the summary of the law is love of God
and love of neighbor?

Identifying
the Chief Division in Theology: Law and Gospel

Clearly,
our interlocutors need to reach agreement on some definitions. Most importantly,
Luther complains that Erasmus "makes no distinction at all between the
voices of the law and of the gospel; so blind and ignorant is [Erasmus'
book] that it does not see what the law and the gospel are."[7] The problem
here is that the law is not good news to a law-breaker; it is horrifying
to learn that God demands something from man that he does not have (righteousness).
It is only as a consequence of this horror--that is, as a consequence of
law--that the message of Christ's living and dying has any meaning. To
the poor and the despairing, Luther writes, "the gospel is preached and
this is just the word that offers the Spirit and grace for the remission
of sins which was procured for us by Christ crucified. It is all entirely
free, given by the mercy of God the Father alone as He shows His favour
towards us, who are unworthy, and who deserve condemnation rather than
anything else."[8]

This is
not to say that the law is unimportant. It is essential; it drives us to
Christ. "By the law is the knowledge of sin" (Rom. 3:20), and an awareness
of sin yields an awareness of the need for a Savior. This is what Luther
calls "the work [or] the office of the law," for "it is a light to the
ignorant and blind..."[9] The law in this most basic theological incarnation
does not tell man that he is weak and exhort him to do better. Instead,
it displays disease, sin, evil, death, hell and the wrath of God. It does
not help nor set them free from these things; it is content merely to point
them out. When a man discovers the sickness of sin, he is cast down and
afflicted; nay, he despairs. The law does not help him; much less can he
heal himself. Another light is needed to reveal a remedy. This is the voice
of the gospel, which displays Christ as the Deliverer from all these evil
things.[10]

Obviously
then, Luther's charge that Erasmus fails to distinguish between the voice
of law and the voice of Gospel is tantamount to saying that he does not
understand the first point of theology. Luther argues that Erasmus seizes
man's problem (the severity of the law) as if it is an answer--and thus
has no real need for God's answer (the Gospel). Throughout The Bondage
of the Will, Luther reiterates both points: that Erasmus regards the
unattainable standard of the law as attainable; and that he "will not take
the slightest trouble to know about Christ."[11]

Helpful
vs. Idle Theologizing

In addition
to distinguishing the parts (law and Gospel) within the whole of theology,
Luther also draws a distinction between theologizing that is profitable
and theologizing that is pointless. This distinction is derived from the
division between those things which God has revealed and those on which
he has remained silent (or left hidden).

[We]
must discuss God, or the will of God, preached, revealed, offered to us,
and worshipped by us, in one way, and God not preached, nor revealed, nor
offered to us, nor worshipped by us, in another way. Wherever God hides
Himself, and wills to be unknown to us, there we have no concern. Here
that sentiment: "what is above us does not concern us," really holds good...

Now, God
in His own nature and majesty is to be left alone; in this regard, we have
nothing to do with Him, nor does He wish us to deal with Him. We have to
do with Him as clothed and displayed in His Word, by which He presents
Himself to us.[12]

If God has
not spoken on a matter, Christian theology should not regard that matter
as a topic on which it needs to speak definitively. "But if [the topic
under consideration] is a matter of concern to Christians and to the Scriptures,
then it ought to be clear, open and plain, just like all the other articles,
which are perfectly plain."[13]

Yet to
say that the Word defines the theologian's business is not to say that
the Christian never brings questions with him to the text. It means, instead,
that the Christian will patiently trust God even if the answer in the Word
is neither complete nor completely satisfying. If God's answer (or lack
of an answer) seems inexplicable, recall with Job who is God and who is
man in this questioning. If there appears to be conflict between our sense
of justice, and what God has revealed as his way of action, Luther exclaims
with Paul: "Let God be true, but every man a liar" (Rom. 3:4).[14] The
problem in any conflict, of course, is not God but us, so Luther counsels:
"In everything else, we allow God His Divine Majesty; in the single case
of His judgement, we are ready to deny it! To think that we cannot for
a little while believe that He is just, when He has actually promised us
that when He reveals His glory we shall all clearly see that He both was
and is just!" The Christian waits on God's timing, because the day of Christ's
return will reveal the God "to whom alone belongs a judgement whose justice
is incomprehensible, as a God whose justice is most righteous and evident--provided
only that in the meanwhile we believe it..."[15]

The Whole
Man Is "Flesh"

But Adam's
children are rebels by nature, and we are not content to wait with the
Word. Reason asserts herself, and demands that God justify himself now.
When he does not submit to our commands, we choose to engage in speculative
theology. Like our parents, we believe we know better than God, and we
lust after forbidden fruit.

According
to this story, however a theory divides one (simply into mind and body,
or into the reason, the will, and the passions), it is impossible to shield
any part of him or her from complicity in--and the consequences of--Adam's
fall. The mind is guilty of unbelief, the will of pride, and the passions
of lust. This is the foundation of Luther's entire argument in The Bondage
of the Will: No part of the self is untainted; therefore, no part of
the self either will or can seek the pure God, who neither will nor can
tolerate any contamination. (The root defect of most arguments which reject
predestination then is an insufficient grasp of the effects of the fall.)
If there is to be any relation between God and humanity, God must take
the initiative. In the case of every Christian, God has been the pursuer,
just as he pursued Adam and Eve as they hid from him in the garden. As
descendants of a line of rebels, we have inherited fear of the just Law-Giver.

But, Erasmus
asks, shouldn't some distinctions be drawn within human nature? Does not
Paul distinguish between "spirit" and "flesh," implying the former is noble
and the latter ignoble? Church father Jerome takes up the distinction and
lodges man's weakness first in the flesh.

No, Luther
bellows, Paul is not following Plato; he is not praising some higher part
of man (mind) and condemning some lower part (body). He is not talking
about two parts of an individual man, but two parts of collective humanity:

What
is the meaning of: "Ye are not in the flesh, if the Spirit is in you,"
but those who have not the Spirit are of necessity in the flesh? And he
that is not Christ's, whose else is he but Satan's? It stands good then,
that those who lack the Spirit are in the flesh, and under Satan.

Now let
us see what Paul thinks about endeavour and the power of "free-will" in
carnal men. "They that are in the flesh cannot please God." Again: "The
carnal mind is death." Again: "The carnal mind is enmity against God."
Once more: "It is not subject to the law of God, neither indeed can be"
(vv. 5-8). Let the guardian of "free-will" answer the following question:
How can endeavours towards good be made by that which is death, and displeases
God, and is enmity against God, and disobeys God, and cannot obey him?[16]

Human pride
wants to ensure that at least the higher or "best parts" do not belong
in the category of the corrupted. Yet, Christ "plainly proves that what
is not born of the Spirit is flesh." In other words, the man who has not
become a Christian by the converting power of the Holy Spirit is, in his
reason and will just as much as his body, entirely "flesh" (or sinful).[17]
Paul and Luther are not offering a Greek distinction between mind and body
as higher and lower, pure and impure. Instead, the biblical distinction
is between those who have and those who have not been initiated into the
kingdom.

Outside
the kingdom are those who do not despair of their own works. Instead, they
strive for (an intrinsic) righteousness by the law. (To Luther, this lack
of despair in their own merit is part of what distinguishes non-Christians
from Christians. For unlike Christians, "the rest of men resist this humiliation;
indeed, they condemn the teaching of self-despair; they want a little something
left that they can do for themselves. Secretly they continue proud, and
enemies of the grace of God."[18]) Inside the kingdom is the other group,
those who have the righteousness of Christ, which comes by faith. This
is an imputed or "reckoned" righteousness, which "consists, not in any
works, but in the gracious favor and reckoning of God. See how Paul stresses
the word 'reckoned'; how he insists on it, and repeats it, and enforces
it." This is significant to Luther because it is very odd to repeat that
a man is called or reckoned something that he actually is (intrinsically).
Who is surprised that the ocean, which is deep, is called deep? The point
is that man is not righteous (intrinsically), yet God calls him righteous
(on account of Christ). This is the "God who gives life to the dead and
calls those things which do not exist as though they did" (Rom. 4:17).

Luther
continues his exegesis of Paul: "'To him that worketh,' he says, 'the reward
is reckoned, not of grace, but of debt. But to him that worketh not, but
believeth on him that justifieth the ungodly, his faith is reckoned for
righteousness,' according to the purpose of God's grace."[19] Highlighting
Paul's use of the word "reckon .. about ten times" in Romans 4, Luther
is arguing that "flesh" corresponds to those outside the kingdom, those
who work for their salvation and trust in themselves. "Spirit" corresponds
to citizens of God's kingdom, those who do not work for their salvation
but instead by the power of the Spirit trust in the vicarious living and
dying of Christ.

A Will,
But Not a Free Will

Once the
reader begins to understand that Luther is talking about the universal
sinfulness (or "fleshliness") of man in his fallen state, it becomes clearer
why he makes so little effort to distinguish between reason and will--and
why he is even discussing (attacking) reason at all in a debate which is
supposedly about the will rather than the reason. Luther's book is called
The Bondage of the Will, but it could just as easily be titled The
Bondage of the Whole Man. No one claims that the affections are pure.
Luther's goal is to ensure that no one can claim that any other part of
man is pure either. It seems self-evident that only a pure part of man
would seek a pure God who destroys all impurity (e.g., Lev. 10). If God
is holy, it is only by positing that some portion of man is free from unholiness
that one can argue that man (or that portion of man) yearns after such
a terrifying God. Luther, as if to economize his writings, is arguing for
the contamination of the reason and of the will side-by-side. Both of them
are dead in trespasses and sin. Neither contributes anything to man's salvation.

Yet, contrary
to Erasmus' reading of this argument, Luther is not saying that the will
and the reason were not good creations, that they do not exist, or that
they are of no earthly value. Where Erasmus, in Luther's view, is continually
jumping from theology to philosophy, and mixing "up everything, heaven
with hell and life with death," Luther is trying to have an exclusively
theological discussion about whether humans contribute anything (besides
the sin) to salvation. "I cannot worship, praise, give thanks or serve
Him, for I do not know how much I should attribute to myself and how much
to Him. We need, therefore, to have in mind a clear-cut distinction between
God's power and ours, and God's Work and ours, if we would live a godly
life." Anticipating Calvin, Luther sees this matter as intimately connected
to the starting point of all existential knowledge: knowledge of God and
knowledge of self.[20]

In an
argument that could grow monotonous if it were not so wonderfully life-producing,
Luther repeatedly charges Erasmus with applying Paul's condemnation of
"the old man" only to the "gross affections" rather than also to "what
you call the most exalted faculties, that is, reason and will."[21] Mocking
Erasmus' claim that knowledge of man's complete depravity can serve no
constructive purpose, Luther shouts the incapacity of humanity and the
complete (and even good works-producing) work of God all the more. Regarding
the will:

"Who"
(you say) "will try and reform his life?" I reply, Nobody! Nobody can!
God has no time for your practitioners of self-reformation, for they are
hypocrites. The elect, who fear God, will be reformed by the Holy Spirit;
the rest will perish unreformed. Note that Augustine does not say that
a reward awaits nobody's works, or everybody's works, but some men's works.
So there will be some who will reform their lives.

Regarding
the mind:

"Who
will believe" (you say) "that God loves him?" I reply, Nobody! Nobody can!
But the elect shall believe it; and the rest shall perish without believing
it, raging and blaspheming, as you describe them. So there will be some
who believe it.

You say
that a flood-gate of iniquity is opened by our doctrines. So be it.[22]

Contrary
to many caricatures of Lutheranism (sadly often even by her sister faith,
Calvinism), Luther does not deny sanctification; he simply (and properly)
will not allow it to eclipse justification. Christians do grow in intrinsic
righteousness, but only as an effect of--never as a cause of--the imputed
righteousness of Christ. This is his point when he criticizes Erasmus for
not distinguishing between commands (law) given to Christians and those
given to non-Christians. The indicative and imperative moods must be distinguished.
Meaningful exhortation (what Calvinism calls the "third use" of the law)
can only come after condemnation (what Calvinism calls the "first use"
of the law).[23] This is because the will that was dead to God has been
made alive by God. This is not to exalt the "free will" of the unregenerate
but rather to praise the Spirit who converts people and now uses them for
the glory of God. So does Luther understand the productive and barren trees:
"those who are not justified are sinners; and sinners are evil trees, and
can only sin and bear evil fruit."[24]

Erasmus,
in repeatedly attacking Luther's position of "necessity," apparently thinks
that Luther is embracing philosophical determinism or fatalism. What he
doesn't understand, though, is that Luther isn't trying to address this
philosophical problem. As noted earlier, Luther believes the theologian's
task is assigned by the Word, and the Christian Scriptures do not speak
to the philosophical problem of the appearance of fatalism--a problem which
is common to every articulated belief system. As he frequently reiterates,
Luther is not talking about "compulsion." A will, by definition, cannot
be under compulsion, or it would cease to be a will. Luther is not disputing
the existence of man's will; instead, he is asserting that all of the desires
of the fallen will are sinful.[25]

When the
reader hears this, he wants to argue, offering distinctions between higher
and lower objects, greater and lesser actions. Luther is not disputing
these distinctions. He is arguing rather that even the noblest impulse
or action of which any child of Adam can conceive is stained with sin.
Luther is not saying that we shouldn't draw distinctions between civic
(earthly) righteousness and unrighteousness. We should; but we shouldn't
thereby conclude that God's standard (the right act proceeding from the
right motive: his glory) is the same as the county courthouse standard
(the right act).

When Luther
says the will is bound, he is saying that it has no options which are not
sinful. He is not saying that one thereby has no options at all. He frequently
distinguishes these things as man's will "above" and "below" him. We may
"credit man with 'free-will' in respect, not of what is above him, but
of what is below him. That is to say, man should realize that in regard
to his money and possessions he has a right to use them, to do or to leave
undone, according to his own 'free-will'..." Nonetheless, "with regard
to God, and in all that bears on salvation or damnation, he has no 'free-will',
but is a captive, prisoner and bondslave, either to the will of God or
to the will of Satan."[26] The Christian (by the converting work of the
Spirit) is willfully enslaved to the will of God; the natural person (by
the receipt of Adam's nature by birth) is willfully enslaved to the will
of Satan. Neither will is free (to pick its master at random), but both
wills, by definition as wills, willfully serve their received master.

Reason,
But Not Reason as King

The same
distinction between freedom below and universal bondage in things above
applies to reason as much as to will. It is the universal sinfulness of
reason (as it doubts or tries to go beyond the Word) that Luther is attacking
when he condemns reason as the "Devil's whore." He is talking again about
speculation, about impatience with the Revealed God and yearning to know
the secrets of the Hidden God, of believing Satan's lies about the tree,
of boredom with God's incarnational revelation in Christ.

Some theologians
draw a helpful distinction here between the ministerial and magisterial
uses of reason. Ministerial reason is the basic way we think about things
below and about those things which God has chosen to reveal from above.
Magisterial reason is the mind's prideful claim that it is not created,
that it is the maker of reality, that it will not abide any limits God
may place on it. This is the distinction which is at work when Luther distinguishes
between the (proper) "Kingdom of Reason" (earth) and the "Spiritual Kingdom"
(heaven).

Just as
Luther could place no hope in a will enslaved to sin, he can place no hope
in human reason blind to this enslavement: "Show me out of the whole race
of mortal men one, albeit the most holy and righteous of them all, to whose
mind it ever occurred that the way to righteousness and salvation was simply
to believe on Him who is both God and man, who died for men's sins, and
was raised, and is set at the right hand of the Father!" And not only will
man not allow that (true heavenly) righteousness comes from another, he
also will not allow that there is divine judgment for man's (earthly) righteousness:
"Look at the greatest philosophers! What thoughts had they of God? What
have they left in writing about the wrath to come?" The unregenerate have
no ability to believe this truth apart from the "predestinating" Spirit.[27]
For when natural man

hears
Christ teach the true way of salvation, by new birth, does he acknowledge
it and confess that in time past he sought it? No; he starts back, and
is confounded; and not only says that he does not understand it, but turns
from it as an impossibility... Who ever thought that the Son of God must
be "lifted up, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have
eternal life" [John 3]? Did the best and acutest philosophers ever mention
it?

No, so "the
whole world," and "human reason" and "free-will, are forced to confess
that they had not known nor heard of Christ before the gospel entered the
world."[28]

Reason
is naturally self-justifying, Luther says, which is why Erasmus naturally
assumes either that man can fulfill the law or that he already knows he
cannot. In reality, though, the law comes to condemn, as the preparation
for the Gospel, telling the person what his self-justifying reason would
not: that he is a sinner. For "neither reason nor 'free-will' points to
[God]; how could reason point to Him, when it is itself darkness and needs
the light of the law to show it its own sickness, which by its own light
it fails to see, and thinks is sound health?" The person thus humbled,
given the gift of faith in Christ, will then trust God even when God tells
him that the penalty for sin is death--be that the death of the sinner
or the death of the Substitute. "Faith and the Spirit" believe "that God
is good even though he should destroy all men."[29]

The problem
of the person who knows himself to be a sinner and naturally the enemy
of God is not why God predestines only some, but why he predestines any
at all![30] This is where Luther unleashes his string of glorious paradoxes:
God quickens by killing, justifies by pronouncing guilty, carries up to
heaven by bringing down to hell, reveals by concealing; he is merciful
though he damns, just though he creates objects for destruction.[31]

When the
interlocutor inquires further regarding the philosophical question of why
the "will of Majesty purposely leaves and reprobates some to perish," Luther
points to Romans 9 and the command that man be silent about God's "dreadful
hidden will." Luther knows that man is not yet satisfied, but he thinks
the theologian's task is sufficiently fulfilled when he gets Erasmus to
the place where the Word commands him to be silent:

But
here Reason, in her knowing and talkative way, will say: "This is a nice
way out that you have invented--that, whenever we are hard pressed by force
of arguments, we run back to that dreadful will of Majesty, and reduce
our adversary to silence"... I reply: This is not my invention, but a command
grounded on the Divine Scriptures... Paul says: "Why then does God find
fault? Who shall resist His will? O man, who art thou that contendest with
God? Hath not the potter power?" and so on (Rom. 9:19, 21).[32]

Everyone
Willfully Cooperates with God

Luther's
position is neither fideist (having faith in faith) nor irrational. Instead,
it is reason based on revelation. This theological task might properly
be distinguished from apologetic tasks (for example, seeking to persuade
the non-Christian that the Bible is in fact God's revelation).[33] But
within the context of those who claim to believe in revelation (as in the
case of this debate with Erasmus), it would be utterly insane for the reason
of finite creatures to ignore the limits prescribed by the infinite God's
revelation.

As J.
I. Packer argues, Luther's picture--and indeed the biblical picture--is
of anything but a deistic or Epicurean god.[34] While Aristotle's god may
be so unaware of this world that he sleeps, Luther's God is "incessantly
active" in both the creative and redemptive spheres, in the initiation
and sustenance of each. In this, human nature reflects God's nature, for
God will not allow humans "to be idle." One does not merely exist, but
is always active, and is always willfully desiring and acting "according
to his nature."[35]

The only
question is about that nature. Either one wills and acts according to the
fallen nature received from Adam, as one "ridden" by Satan. Or one wills
and acts as the new creation of God, trusting in Christ and directed by
the Spirit. Both the non-Christian and the Christian, though, are animated
by God--that is, both receive their existence and energy from him, for
there is no such thing as an act independent of God. And both individuals
in a sense fulfill the will of God: the first his hidden will (of glorification
in justice); the second his revealed will (of glorification in mercy).
"Yet God does not work in us without us; for he created and preserves us
for this very purpose, that He might work in us and we might cooperate
with Him, whether that occurs outside His kingdom, by His general omnipotence,
or within His kingdom, by the special power of His Spirit."[36] Luther
is not saying that the "dead" person cooperates with God as God makes him
alive; this is God's action alone. Nonetheless, after God's justification
and regeneration, one does indeed cooperate with God in the glorification
of his Creator and Redeemer. The redeemed person does this willfully--but
because God gave him the will, not because his will was free to change
itself.

Though
the great theologians who guard "free-will" may not know, or pretend not
to know, that Scripture proclaims Christ categorically and antithetically,
all Christians know it, and commonly confess it. They know that there are
in the world two kingdoms at war with each other. In the one, Satan reigns
(which is why Christ calls him "the prince of this world" [John 12:31],
and Paul "the god of this world" [2 Cor. 4:4])... In the other kingdom,
Christ reigns. His kingdom continually resists and wars against that of
Satan; and we are translated into His kingdom, not by our own power, but
by the grace of God, which delivers us from this present evil world and
tears us away from the power of darkness. The knowledge and confession
of these two kingdoms, ever warring against each other with all their might
and power, would suffice by itself to confute the doctrine of "free-will,"
seeing that we are compelled to serve in Satan's kingdom if we are not
plucked from it by Divine power. The common man, I repeat, knows this,
and confesses it plainly enough by his proverbs, prayers, efforts and entire
life.[37]

In yet another
paradox, while the Christian begins with despair, he receives complete
assurance: "I have the comfortable certainty that I please God, not by
reason of the merit of my works, but by reason of His merciful favour promised
to me; so that, if I work too little, or badly, He does not impute it to
me,
but with fatherly compassion pardons me and makes me better. This is the
glorying of all the saints in their God."[38]